Taking a Hit

When I was in grad school (an eon ago, I sometimes think) I had a brand-new pickup truck*. I had bought it new two weeks before I started graduate studies, and it was (and remains) the only new vehicle I'd ever had. I treated it like, well, like a brand new vehicle. A Ford Ranger long-bed with an automatic transmission and all the bells and whistles like air conditioning.

My Polish Grandmother never drove. Once, the boys tried to teach her how to drive, and she wrapped the pickup truck around a tree. Never again.

So perhaps it is understandable that my mother thought about the truck the day I called my mom from school and said, "Mom, I ran into a tree".

"Oh my god! Is the truck OK?"

... "Mom, the truck wasn't involved. I. Ran into. A Tree."

... (giggle)... "How ... how did you do that?" ...(giggle)

The story is that I was walking, quickly, across the quad, angling from the art department towards the Student Union across the grass. I ducked under the low branches of a smallish tree, the only tree on this patch of lawn, and slammed skull-first into a strangely pruned limb, as thick as my arm. It knocked me back a couple of steps, and I saw stars, but nothing seemed broken, so I continued on, got my lunch, and sat down to eat it. A couple of young men in suits and bow-ties made a half-hearted attempt to sell me a copy of the Watchtower, but were easily (too easily) sent away. Usually I had to argue with the Nation of Islam guys to convince them that as a member of the Jewish community I wasn't really interested in financing Islam, but this time they gave me odd looks and went on to the next table. I finished my lunch and headed back to the art department, where I was prepping to teach my class. One of my students was early, and he looked at me and said," Uh, Cara? Your head is bleeding."

It didn't require stitches, and was just inside the hairline, but it explained the odd looks.

Now read this. I laughed myself silly.

*that truck would be the one that we sold to our neighbors last year after buying the minivan. I had owned my truck for over 15 years, and it had about 160,000 miles on it. But aside from a few small dents, torn overhead upholstery, and a crack in the dashboard where one of my sculptures fell over, it looked about the same as it did in 1992.

Gratuitous Crying Baby with Santa Photo

Sabine wasn't thrilled to meet Santa.


Arabella and her buddy were much more excited.

In which I relearn a lesson I should have learned long ago

Sabine has been going to bed easily this week, after 3 nights of crying, and crying very little (especially when compared to Arabella, who after 6 months of sleep training would still stand in the crib and wail for 20 minutes just to make sure I knew she could, and can still hit a wall and cry over not getting a second story at bedtime).

So yesterday I bragged to my knitting friends that Sabine now goes right in the crib and goes to sleep without a whimper. (not being parents themselves, they were only mildly impressed)

To my friend and fellow-mommy-of-small-children Jen I crowed that she goes right back to sleep without protest, only waking twice a night.

To other moms at preschool I jubilated in the newfound evenings of leisure.

So of course last night Sabine howled. Only for 4 minutes, but still...

I'll be keeping quiet about sleeping habits from now on.

******

A few weeks ago my knitting buddies and I noticed the new Starbucks decor was red shiny balls and green balls of yarn. We thought this was amazing. One of the barristas came over and said that when they saw the new decorations that he commented "The yarn ladies are going to shit a brick!"

Last night, Shawn, the manager came to our table with a fistful of wooden stir sticks and an extra yarn ball wreath. He had managed to procure an extra, and wanted to have us draw stir sticks to see who would take it home. And I drew the short stick! Wow!

So now I have a Starbucks wreath, no idea where or how to hang it, and am worried people will think I've been stealing the decor from Starbucks!

Sleep Trained

Last night as Sabine and I sat in the rocker and she perused a truck book and a roaring dinosaur (purloined from her sister's room) I asked if she was ready for bedtime and she vigorously shook her head (no!).

When I kissed Sabine goodnight, laid her in the crib and tucked her in she started to squeal and cry. I walked out, closing the door behind me, and she had stopped before I reached my room, less than 15 feet away. She woke at 1:30, 5, and then was awake and ready to go at 7:15. Each time she woke in the night she went back in the crib without a fuss. Not too bad.

Today was the Winter Pageant / Holiday Presentation at church. I had volunteered Arabella for a part. I thought she might carry a wreath, or dance with the other kids, but they gave her a spoken part: she was supposed to recite Christina Rossetti's But Give Me Holly,

But give me holly, bold and jolly,
Honest, prickly, shining holly.
Pluck me holly, leaf and berry,
for the day when I make merry.

Which, since she can't read, we had to work together to memorize. This was complicated by my losing the fricking poem, and not being able to find it online, but she did pretty well nonetheless, though Jennie (the assistant pageant director) had to prompt her a couple of times. She looked like a deer caught in the headlights, which is odd from the child who has never before shied away from public performance.

Sleep Training, Night 1

Last night Sabine was so tired that she was rubbing her eyes at 7. Amazingly, she stayed awake until 8, and we had a pleasant bath time and bedtime. I prepared Arabella for the evening by telling her that Sabine likely would be crying a lot, but that Sabine would be fine, and Arabella was not to come to Sabine's room nor call out.

I nursed Sabine as usual, but didn't turn out the light or use the boppy (nursing pillow). When she stopped nursing and closed her eyes I cuddled her for a moment, kissed her cheek, laid her in bed, and turned out the light. For a moment she was still and quiet, then she wriggled, then kicked, then began to cry. Eventually she began to scream, and after thinking for a moment I decided to Ferberize, and I patted her one last time, said I loved her and walked out. She howled. I could hear her yelling "MOM! NONONONO!" (to others it would sound more like Mam, nah-nah-nah-nah!) which was quite wrenching, but I held firm.

I went back after 5 minutes, and she pawed me hysterically. I stroked her cheek, kissed her head, and laid her back down. She cried for another 7 minutes, but gave up before the 10 minutes were up. After another 5 minutes I took my shower, and there was not a peep. She woke at 12:30 and again at 4 and 6:30, and each time I nursed her and put her back in the crib awake. Each time when I went to get her, she was still laying down, under her blanket as I had left her. And each time she cried for a shorter time (at 4 she cried for less than 2 minutes, and her heart wasn't really in it, it was just protest). At 6:30 she might have been willing to sleep if I would have snuggled with her, but wasn't wanting back in the crib. She was awake, but I expect she will nap well today.

Part of the reason for doing this is that at some point Arabella and Sabine will have to share a room, and probably sooner than later (like when we travel) and I want both to be able to sleep without long drawn-out rituals.

Re-Sleep and new pictures

Last night I didn't get home until past 10 pm, so Michael put the girls to bed by himself, and said it went off without a hitch. Tonight we do the real training, as in, Sabine goes into the crib awake. Sleepy, but awake. One of the moms at Arabella's preschool used the Ferber method, and had two of her kids going to sleep on their own after 3 days, one held out for 10 days. Now all three go right to sleep with no problem, even the 2 year old. I don't have hopes that high, but miracles could happen!

I finished a washcloth for the Spa-themed gift basket for Arabella's preschool Silent Auction fundraiser. It only took about 24 hours! Amazing.

Now for pictures from ballet class.

I know, it is an odd ballet outfit, but somehow Arabella has the personality to pull it off.

Re-Sleep, Night 5 and Recession Tips

Last night went pretty well. When I got home from knitting with the gang Sabine was so tired she fell asleep within 10 minutes of lights out, and slept through Arabella's story time in Arabella's room. Amazing. Of course, she was up about every 2 hours, and we are now down to ONE pacifier from a high of 7 less than a month ago, but we managed with one paci all night, and I am resolved to tidy and hunt paci's today to avoid going out in the freezing cold.

********

Don't you love the magazine articles that say they can save you $100 a month, and then you look at it and its all stuff like giving up spa treatments for home facials and such? Or suggest you shop clearance racks instead of the aisle racks at Macy's. I read those and think, well, I don't do that stuff anyway. So I decided to come up with my own version of the money saving tips. These are some of our own methods for saving money.

1. Don't get professional haircuts. No one in this house has had a professional hair cut in over 6 months. That's right. Michael hasn't paid for a haircut since 1996, and I get one or two haircuts a year, usually at Wal-Mart. I cut Arabella's hair in the bob you see in current pictures, and I have always trimmed bangs myself. Annual savings, about $300.
2. Invest in good shoes and wear them until they fall off your feet. My favorite boots are Carolina Engineer's boots, and they last as much as 5 years. Annual savings, about $50.
3. Shop at Thrift Stores, Resale shops and end of season clearance racks (at Target and Wal-Mart, not at Macy's) for clothing. Although you can be open about unusual or unplanned finds, go in with a realistic plan of what you need. Annual savings, couldn't say, I've been shopping this way so long.
4. Live or work in a neighborhood where you can walk to shops and services. It helps. Annual savings, about $50, plus gym membership.
5. Use the library instead of always buying books. We are huge book readers, and although we still buy some books (for the girls and knitting books, mostly), we borrow nearly everything we read now. And the library has more than books -- DVD movies, music, etc. The biggest savings has been on knitting books -- I borrow books before making the decision to buy, which has saved me from buying books that looked good but had nothing much to offer me. Annual savings, about $250, maybe more.
6. Use cloth dishtowels instead of paper towels, cloth napkins instead of paper, reusable plastic containers instead of throwaways, plastic shopping bags for diapers instead of Diaper Genie type contraptions. Annual savings, probably $100.
7. Plant a garden. I don't know that this aves us any money but it sure does make me feel good to eat produce out of the garden.
8. Remake clothing. It's fun, it's cheap and it's very chic right now. Old t-shirts can become stuffed animals, or rugs, quilts, or even children's' super hero capes. I use holey socks (clean of course) as stuffing in door socks, and have plans for several old pair of jeans to become tote bags and child size skirts. Wool sweaters can be felted and cut up to make purses, hats, mittens and other garments. Annual savings, who knows.

I'm sure there is more. We have friends and neighbors who go much farther than we do -- no cable TV, sharing DVD rentals with other families before returning them, no eating out. We're not ready for that, but every little bit helps.

Re-Sleep, Night 4 and more injuries

Last night was pretty easy, compared to the previous nights of squirming sleeplessness. On the down side, Sabine was AWAKE at 6:30 this morning again. But since I'm getting a more restful evening it doesn't seem so bad.



On Sunday we had our first snow, just a dusting, really ...

but it meant it was time to break out the snow boots for the girls, which lead to my realizing that Arabella's old snow boots don't fit Sabine. They are so ridiculously tiny that its a bit like Cinderella's step-sisters. Except Sabine doesn't like the boots, probably because they are vise-like.

I wanted to take the Xmas card pictures this week, so I could get them made and sent out sometime before 2009, but I also wanted to take them outside, which wasn't going to work with the Bean in suede shoes instead of snow boots, so we had to find a pair. And yesterday I did, lovely beige suede boots with faux fur trim and pom-poms for $13! We got home, I set her down in the driveway in her boots and snow suit, and she bent over like she was looking at the ground, and then flattened out like a pancake. Face planted right into the gravel of our drive. You would think with such large boats for feet she would stand up better, but no. And it gave her a little cut on her lip.

We got back in the house, and within 5 minutes I heard a thump and howl from the living room as Thing One leaped from the top of the armchair to land face first on the coffee table. I did a similar thing when I was 4, and had to have 8 stitches. Fortunately Arabella is fine, but it looks like we have been beating our children.

And now , a bit of explaining. Michael has persuaded all our friends and family that I am the slob of the family, and were it not for his cleaning genius I would end up one of those people who can't open the door because of the floor to ceiling stacks of trash. Although I readily admit I am domestically challenged, it is not so bad as he makes out, and he is certainly guilty of leaving out random socks, boots, and Starbucks to go cups.

Which leads us to Why Daddy Needs To Pick Up His Stuff

or, Why Toddlers don't need Espresso Truffle Beverages.

Re-Sleep, Night 3

Last night seemed to go a little more smoothly (remember, we are not yet at the training stage, just the schedule adjustment phase), but ...

One of my cardinal rules for babies (I kept it with Arabella as well as Sabine) is

Thou Shalt Not Diaper The Baby In The Middle Of The Night

unless it is an Emergency like the diaper overflowed. This rule only counts for babies older than 3 months.

But last night, when I picked up Sabine at midnight she was Stinky. Specifically poopy stinky. I didn't know how this could be since she had THREE poopy diapers yesterday, but there it was. I ignored it, got her back to sleep, and decided it must just be gas. But then she was awake at 1:30, and the stink was still there, so after 20 minutes I decided we must do an emergency night diapering. I turned on the tiny lamp, whipped her silently out of sleeper and diaper to discover ... nothing. A barely damp diaper and stink, but nothing more.

She faked me out!

Re-Sleep, Night 2

Some years back we lifted a page from Walter's parenting playbook and start off the bath and bedtime ritual with a call-back:

What time is it?
It's bath-time!
What time is it?
It's bath-time!
Rubber ducky in the house!
Quack-Quack-Quack-Quack!
Rubber ducky in the house!
Quack-Quack-Quack-Quack!

Arabella knows it well, and now Sabine is starting in too.

What time is it?
Baa-taa!
What time is it?
Baa-taa!

Last night was a bit of a mess. After I turned out the lights, Sabine just gyrated in my lap, not sleeping. After about 45 minutes there was a tentative knock at the door, and Arabella came in. "Mommy, when are you reading my stories, I've been waiting forever!" I told her that she had to go back down stairs, Daddy would read her stories, and then I sang her favorite lullaby, Fourteen Angels. Sabine, having seen her buddy, struggled to get out of my lap. About 20 minutes later she was asleep, Arabella was in bed and Michael and I breathed again.

Sabine woke several times, mostly because she had lost the paci, and she seemed to sleep more lightly than usual, but she stayed more or less in sleep mode until 7:15. Not great, but not awful.

Re-Sleep, Night 1

My plan is this -- first we have to start by moving Sabine's bedtime up, and moving Arabella's bedtime back a little, so that Sabine is going to bed first, but otherwise keep all the techniques the same. I think we will be doing that for almost a week, to get everyone used to the new schedule, then I will start the sleep training beginning on Friday (this is also because I work late on Thursdays, and I don't want Michael to have to handle all the screaming madness alone).

So last night was the first night of the new schedule. Except for Sabine being AWAKE from 1:30 to 3 am, it was pretty much the same as any other night. She woke up at 6:30, when Arabella got up, but she seemed ready. The hard part is for Arabella, moving the normal and long-practiced bedtime rituals downstairs, and most especially getting Arabella into bed quietly. Those of you who know Arabella personally know that she doesn't do anything quietly.

But so far, so good.

Difference

I expected Arabella and Sabine would be different. Before Sabine was born I wondered how Sabine would look different from her sister. The pregnancies were differnt, the deliveries were different, but then I looked at Sabine and thought, "she looks exaclty the same". It was deja vu. Sabine even weighed the same as Arabella had -- 7 pounds exactly. They had the same mop of dark hair, round cheeks, delicate hands, dark bronze-gray eyes. But there were differences right away. Within a few weeks Sabine had happily settled into a pattern, and slept well for a new born, where Arabella had never taken to a pattern and rarely slept more than an hour at a time until she was 3 months old.

As Sabine gets older I see more differences. Physically, she is not as long and lanky as Arabella was at the same age, though she is not far behind. She has lighter hair and skin, though only barely. Her teeth have been much slower in breaking out, she only cut her 3rd tooth this week, at nearly 14 months. But most striking are the behavioral diffences.

Sabine throws her food when she isn't interested any more, which Arabella never did. When Sabine notices the gate on the stairs in open, she stands at the foot of the stairs and yells MAMA! MAMA! until someone comes over to either gate the stairs or help her up them. If Arabella ever found a gate open she shot through it like a greased pig, and would be up the stairs before you even realized she wasn't still in the kitchen. Sabine claps these days, she imitates sounds, and sometimes parrots my words. She ahs a decent vocabulary for a baby, about a dozen words or more. Arabella didn't talk until she was more than 15 months old. Sabine has much greater fine motor skills than Arabella did, she loves to sort, put things inside other things, and has already figured out zippers and zip-loc technology.


Between the two of them I think we're in alot of trouble.

But even more than just hte differences between them are the diffences in how I have raised them. With Arabella I was the Sleep Nazi. She had a strict bedtime, routine and I used sleep training from the time she was 6 months old. And naps, we didn't go anywhere if it interfered with her ap time. None of this really helped, she was still up every night, half the night, shreiking like a banshee, but I tried. Arabella fought sleep like Beowulf fought Grendel. Finally, at about 4 years old, she settled into sleeping without having to be guided back to bed a half-dozen times a night. My grandmother assures me that I was the same, and so was Sue, her neice. She thinks we were afraid we would miss something.

With Sabine I have thrown all the sleep training out. I nurse and rock her to sleep, wait until she is totally out and put her in the crib. With the result that she wakes 2 to 4 times a night, and some nights, like last night, she stays awake in the dark in my lap for over an hour. I have never let her cry it out, more to prevent her waking the rest of the household than anything. And since Arabella is such a loud kid, we can't put Sabine to sleep until after Arabella, so Arabella always wakes Sabine in the mornings, when Sabine is still needing at least another hour of sleep.

It has to stop. So sometime between now and Xmas there will be alot less sleep happening in this house, and alot more screaming.

So Thankful

I don't usually like to talk too much about the good stuff in my life. Maybe it's my Jewish-by-Osmosis-ness, but I feel like bragging about how wonderful my life is might bring the evil eye down on us. I just don't do it. Or maybe just a little.

But I am thankful for all the bounty of my life. At 39 1/2 years of age I am healthy and as fit as can be expected of someone who thinks walking to the library is exercise. I have two beautiful and healthy and strong (willed) daughters. I have a handsome and smart husband who loves me deeply and sincerely, in spite of my silliness. We have a home, and jobs, which this holiday season are enough in and of themselves. We have loving family, we have wonderful friends.

I am thankful that there are people in this world who can look beyond things like gender or race or religion or other divisions and see the quality of a human being. Maybe not enough people yet, and I know I have far to go still, but every step taken is a step closer to a better world for my children. I am thankful for all the people who believe we can improve the world around us, even if only in small ways.

I am thankful for the smell of tomatoes on the vine, for warm summer nights, for fresh clean water and the food we eat. I am thankful for being able to make a small living as an artist, while being a mother. I am thankful for hands and eyes and hearts.

I am thankful for everything.

Birthday the 5th

New Pictures - Museum visit

We went to the Childrens Museum with Grumpy last week.

Arabella as Captain America.


Sabine enjoyed the carousel so much she insisted on riding a second time.


Soda Jerk.

Not my vacation

I haven't been blogging, and that is because my Dad (aka Grumpy) has been visiting for the past 9 days. I have never told my Dad that I have a blog, because he doesn't share my views on ... well ... on anything. I love my Dad, he loves me and he loves his grand-daughters, and he has always been generous with us, but he is a critical, bigoted, frustrating person with some startling and annoying habits. So he was here, and I stayed away from my blog, and he didn't call Obama the anti-christ, and things were pretty mellow.

Other problems of having my Dad visit is that I never feel like I can get anything done. Now that he is gone I have a long list of things that need to be done, like making an art mat for Arabella's class, submitting paperwork to the school district in preparation for Arabella to enter Kindergarten next year, firing ceramics projects, and packing artwork and other things to ship across country. I don't know why I feel I can't do any of that stuff while he's around, but it might be his hovering around and offering helpful advice like "ask them why they are such a**holes", or "tell them you should get a better rate because you're so cute". He always gives me some money when he leaves for 'room and board' which I always tell him he doesn't need to do (except back when he would stay at our house for two weeks, have to be driven everywhere, and make frequent long distance calls. Now he brings his own car or walks, and we have flat rate long distance). This time he asked if my mom stayed here when she visited and then if she paid room and board (like I would charge my mother room and board! my goodness!) like he does, and I said, no, she does laundry instead. He didn't bring it up again.

********

Sabine, I have noticed, is much more socially discriminating than Arabella ever has been. At Starbucks last week, there was a rather grungy looking man asleep in a chair when we walked in. Now, realize that when I say the man looked like a bum that I have a fairly high threshold for bum-ness. I am, after all, the same person who was given spare change on the streets of San Francisco instead of change for a dollar. And a panhandler on Haight Street said to me "hows it going" instead of "got a dollar". Of course I have also gotten curious looks from the Amish, which all should tell you that I have a rather low-key and unusual sense of fashion. So when I say the sleeping man in Starbucks looked like a bum I don't mean he was unshaven, I mean he looked like he probably slept under a bridge last night. Arabella, at 1, would have walked over and smiled, at 2 would have said hi and given him a hug, and at 3 and up would have given him her life story. Sabine however, once she toddled around to where she could see him, stood about 15 feet back, stared, and then tootled off the other way. She never got any closer. Even during his whole visit she seemed not too sure if she liked Grumpy. But since he didn't seem too sure if he liked her, I wasn't fussed.

The Good, the Bad and the WTF

The good was Halloween.




The good was yesterdays election. I am proud and delighted we have elected a smart, accomplished, unflappable president. Who also happens to be black.




The good was yesterdays weather, sunny and 70's, but with all the wondrous colors of a Currier and Ives autumn.




The bad was ...


We went to the library yesterday morning, but got there before the library opened, so I let Sabine out of her stroller and let Arabella and Sabine run around on the library lawn. Another mother and her son were there early too, so she and I talked while the three kids ran around in the unseasonably pleasant weather. Then Arabella picked up Sabine (something i am constantly asking/telling/commanding her not to do) and spun around with her. Arabella stumbled and fell on top of Sabine. They fell slowly, and I didn't think Sabine was hurt, but after Arabella got up, Sabine just lay there, totally limp, unmoving. By the time I got there, she had begun to cry, but I am used to her crying immediately on falling, not 4-5 seconds later. I asked Arabella is Sabine had lost consciousness, realized that doesn't make sense to a 4 - almost - 5 - year - old, and asked her if Sabine had "fallen asleep" when she fell on her. Puzzled, Arabella said yes.





After the library, and playing with the mothers and kids at the La Leche meeting I happily stumbled upon in the library, I called the pediatrician about the brief loss of consciousness. It was nearly 2 hours after the incident, and Sabine had shown no symptoms of a head injury -- no vomiting, no crabbiness, not even a lump on her head. But the pediatrician said we should go to the ER for a CT scan, just in case. So, worried about Sabine's health and head, we went. We waited for over 3 hours before we were called in, missing lunch, and I was stranded with 2 children who were all but licking the floors in the waiting room. Michael came and got Arabella after almost 3 hours, and then I just had to herd Sabine around. By the time we were ushered into a room, Sabine was tired and crabby. The doctor did a physical, but recommended against getting a CT scan, saying it was a lot of radiation when there were no other symptoms of a problem (now over 5 hours after the injury), but told me to monitor her for 24 hours and gave me a list of symptoms that I should rush her in should she present any.



When Sabine and I got home, tired, hungry, and irate, but also relieved, Arabella asked for the billionth time why we had spent so long at the hospital, and I explained for at least the thousandth time. When I got to the part about Sabine "falling asleep," Arabella said, "oh, well, I was just teasing." I was afraid Michael might lunge across the table and strangle her. I was utterly horrified and furious.


So she was lying to me about something serious (and I know I said that if she had "fallen asleep" that would mean a trip to the doctor), or she was lying about the "teasing", but either way she is not being truthful. This compounding my anger and frustration over her not listening to me when I repeatedly warn her NOT to pick up Sabine. I am sure the most frequently used phrases in our house are:

• Settle down
• Eat your dinner
• Indoor voice, please!
• Put Sabine down

So, her punishment is that she will not have a long anticipated birthday party. She has been talking about her plans for a birthday party since her last birthday party, so she will feel this. She will have a cake, and presents from family, but there will be no friends, no party, no banner.

But I will give you all a sneak peek on Arabella and Sabine's Xmas presents -- the Jane Austen dress with a knitted bodice and sewn on fabric skirt. This is Sabine's, in purple. Arabella's will be in her favorite color, deep blue.

I vote, I count

When I realized that Michael would be working on election day, and that I could be stuck in an endless line while wrangling two small children ... I decided to go ahead and vote early. I went to the most rural of my county's early voting locations. The line was short enough that although I took my knitting I only got one row of knitting done. On a swatch, so that's about 20 stitches. It was a quick line.

It is possible I would have gotten more knitting done, bu as soon as I got in line I felt a tickle on my butt, at the top of my crack. Like inside my jeans. As surreptitiously as possible I jiggled my jeans, hoping that I just had a leaf or stray tag. A few moments later I felt the tickle again. I turned my back to the wall and slid my hand down in my pants, but there was nothing there besides underwear.

On and off through the process of voting I had that tickle sensation return, which is almost, but not quite, as distracting as two small children in a polling place. When I was done voting and back in the car I felt around the seat of my pants more thoroughly, but still there was nothing but the phantom tickle.

I went clothes shopping at my favorite local Goodwill store, and in the dressing room I checked again. Nothing. Then I felt the tickle and slapped at it, and felt a little something. I squashed it and flipped it out of the waistband of my panties and saw it, a smooshed Republican ladybug bent on mayhem at the polls. I'm grateful it wasn't a cockroach!

When is the mommy vacation?

Chez Exile is in utter disarray.


Michael is building the shelving/seating/storage cubby system for the mudroom, and I really mean building. From boards and such, not from some Home Despot cabinet kit. It's taking awhile. I got a call last week to teach a 7 week intro wheel course, which is wonderful but also meant I had to wrap my head around that and our routine. Also, last week was Arabella's Fall Break, and we had Plans.

Joni, a friend from last years ballet class, is now teaching, so with her day off she suggested we go to the Children's Museum with our passel of kids. It seemed an excellent plan, so excellent that every other parent of children between the ages of 2 and 12 seemed to have the same thought and the place was insanely crowded. Sabine had fun, rode on the carousel for the first time, and Arabella, though she got a little wild, was better behaved than I expected. I renewed our membership, so we have another year of carousels and live turtles and train sets and dinosaurs.

Friday we went to visit the State Museum and saw the current exhibit about chocolate, as well as the annual GeoFest. Arabella made out with several new rocks, I learned some weird things (they have fossilized poop at the State Museum) and Sabine charmed a whole flock of people. The bad news of the day for Mommy was discovering that my newly finished Pimlico Shrug had slipped off my purse when I was taking stuff out of the van on Thursday and had fallen in the driveway where it had spent the night. In the rain. It is not damaged, but I think it has abandonment issues.

Saturday was the Halloween Festival, and I dressed up the girls in their costumes and we wheeled out, but it was bitterly cold, and we only stayed long enough to eat a kabob and for Arabella to accumulate more lollipops than Willie Wonka and do the space jump before I hustled us all home.


Arabella as a pink poodle, Sabine as a pumpkin with a ghost hat.


Sunday was church and after was the Halloween Party. So I ran about gathering up costumes and making healthy lunches, and fundraiser stuff (cookbooks anyone? poinsettias?), and arrived late with Arabella dancing about asking redundant questions (Are we late? why are we late? do we want to be late? What happens if we're late?...). After services, the kids had a costume parade, a cookie walk, musical chairs, other games that generally encouraged the ingestion of unholy amounts of sugar.


Sabine tried to play DJ with the musical chairs boombox, and Arabella did the cookie walk until she won a Frankenstein's monster cupcake.

By Sunday night, Mommy was worn to a frazzle, and when I realized we were down to only 4 diapers, well ... you know it's bad when I contemplate 4 kid-free hours waiting in line to vote and think that sounds relaxing.

Back to London, knitting-wise

Two years ago I ordered what I thought was a crazy amount of lovely alpaca yarn in a gorgeous shade of garnet red. I was going to knit a hooded poncho with it, but after ordering it I changed my mind (I don't wear ponchos often), and knitted a very large, very thick, very plain stockinette wrap. It took me about 6 weeks. It was lovely, and I wore it several times, and then realized I had made a mistake. I was wrapping the yarn backwards on my purl stitches, so every other row the stitches were twisted all the way around. It bugged me. Combined with the fact that whenever I wore the wrap I felt like I was wearing a blanket, not an elegant wrap, I didn't wear it often. So after a year I decided it was time to make a decision -- either wear the wrap as it was or frog (unravel) the entire giant thing and make something else.

In March I unwound it, and in April, with the help of friend Robin from the church knitting group, skeined it (1200 yards) and washed it. I still had another 3 skeins left over from the original shipment (2 skeins had gone into a beret which I loved until I inadvertently felted it down to Arabella size) , making a nice round 1500 yards of yarn, and with another 300 yards from a fellow knitter in Chicago I felt I had enough to start a pattern I had loved for quite awhile.



The Pimlico Shrug from Knit 2 Together. I loved it. I started on May 1 and on October 12 I cast off and wove in the ends. It is lovely. It is named for a district in London, and the young art girls there, and since I spent an autumn in London while I young art girl, I had to do it. Right?

Do I look all happy and proud? I knitted the body of the shrug in a diamond eyelet pattern, subtle but interesting.

It's part shawl, part cardigan, and all comfy.

Arabella Pumpkin Head

Pumpkin Patch Fun, climbing Mount Straw Bale with buddy Alex.

Sabine riding in the little Red Flyer wagon, wearing her ruby red shoes. She loves riding. Arabella would have bailed out within minutes of starting the ride.


Arabella with her pumpkin selection.


Sabine eyeing the pumpkin patch. Decisions, decisions.


Arabella and Alex posing as farm animals.

Grandmere's visit

My mom visited for Rosh Hashana (since she had a long weekend). At first Sabine wasn't too sure she liked this person she hasn't seen since she was a week old, but, perhaps because my mother and I have nearly identical voices and speech patterns, Sabine became quick pals with Grandmere, leaing against Grandmere's leg while she played.

We had a great time.

We went shopping. Sabine tried out a leather armchair in her size.

We went out for dinner.

Sabine liked bbq. Especially corn.

Saying goodbye to Grandmere.

Somehow I didn't get any pictures of Arabella with Grandmere, but they had a great time, too. Arabella was very sad when Grandmere went home.

Hiding under a rock

That's where you will find me, right now, is hiding under a rock. I haven't been taking pictures, because I think it is cruel to take photos of sick children. Cruel to me, cruel to them. And two weeks ago Sabine was sick. She improved in time for my mother to visit from Los Angeles, and we had a wonderful visit. But the day Mom left we noticed a rash around Sabine's mouth. We figured it was just from her pacifier, but within an hour of Mom's departure I noticed the rash was on her tongue, too. The Doctor said it was hand-foot-mouth disease, yucky but not hazardous. By the time Sabine was feeling better Arabella had developed a sore throat that developed into croup by this past Tuesday. Arabella is feeling mostly better, but now Sabine is not sleeping well.

I'll come out of my rock soon. I promise.

Drama Queen Returns

This has been a rough week. On Monday I babysat a friend's two younger sons, aged 2 years and 5 months. The 5 month old was easy -- until he got hungry -- but the two year old bit Sabine twice, once on the nose and once on the hand. He's bitten Sabine before, I guess she tastes good.

Monday night Arabella had a fever, and she felt poorly all day Tuesday. Tuesday night she and Sabine both had fevers, and I had little sleep, but Wednesday Arabella said she felt well enough for school and ballet, and indeed was quite well-behaved throughout. But Sabine was super-crabby, and by the end of the day I was worn thin. I was looking forward to my Wednesday night knitting get-together.

When I returned home I wasn't too surprised to hear crying, but was surprised when I realized the sobbing was Arabella, wailing in her room. I asked Michael what was the matter and he said she had some kind of a boo-boo on her back, but wouldn't let him see it.

I went in and asked Arabella what was the matter. After much crying and protestations, and solemn swearing on my part that I would look and NOT TOUCH, she raised her shirt and showed me, in the center of her lower back, right on her spine, a little lump. It was small, roundish, and brownish-gray. Like a sudden mole ... or a blood blister ... or a tick. Each time I tried to tough it she would twist away screaming about the PAIN!

I ran a bath, since it was bath time, and tried to get a better look at the mystery bump. I told her she could have a band-aid after bath, and each time I "accidentally" poured water down her back she howled about her boo-boo. But I noticed the boo-boo seemed to change color to beige, and stick out further with each cup of warm water. After bath I took out the hydrogen peroxide and a q-tip, claiming I must put on medicine before the band-aid. I dabbed on the hydrogen peroxide and rubbed the boo-boo. It did seem looser, so as quickly and gently as I could I pried it off with a nail, to a chorus of howling. I put the band-aid on the now boo-boo free spot.

While Arabella got into her pj's I inspected the "boo-boo". It was a sticky, stretchy glob of something, like old bubble gum, about the size of a sesame seed. Stuck to her back, probably from when she rolled around on the floor.

At least it wasn't a tick.

Sabine's vocabulary

1. Mama
2. Dada
3. That! with pointing
4. Nanana = banana, or anything yellow and yummy, like mac & cheese
5. Dye-Dye = Bye-bye, with handwaving
6. A-Wah-BAH-wah = Arabella
7. Cat

Before anyone gets too amazed, I remember well that Arabella wasn't saying anything recognizable at this same age, though she could do things Sabine can't like climb on top of the dining table.

Hair Issues

A few nights ago Arabella was complaining, "don't brush my crack, mommy!" I was puzzled, since I wasn't brushing her butt, until I realized she meant her part, not her crack.

Over the past few days Arabella has started cutting her hair again. Then last night she asked me to cut her hair. I told her she could wait until after lunch today and get it cut at the barber, but she wanted it cut before school, so I obliged and cut it. It is hard to tell from these pictures, because she is in motion, but I think I did pretty well. It makes her look sweet, and civilized, and so tall.

Smells like Bean Spirit

Sabine.


She salvaged bottles out of the recycling, and I had to get a picture before removing glass fromtiny and rough hands.

"But I don't want any more applesauce!"




See ya!

It may be time to find a new library

I really like our library. It's big and well-lit and has a huge children's area, with several computers with kids games, and reading area, and toys for toddlers, and even a little fake fireplace.

But I keep having weird experiences at the library. The freaky family hasn't made a reappearance, but today was almost as special.

When I arrived at the children's section of the library, there were at least a dozen children and several moms I know, seated in the armchairs placed there for adults the way armchairs are in women's clothing sections for men while their wives are shopping. The one I know best (I'll call her Happy) was seated at the one sofa, working at her laptop, her paperwork covering the other half of the sofa. All the seats were filled except for one on the far side of Happy, between the sofa and a man reading a paper. I assumed, since he was at least 40 feet from the entrance to the children's area, that he must be a dad.

I sat down with Sabine, who didn't show any interest in getting down and playing while Arabella went hunting for her one book quota. The man with the paper asked me is Sabine was 8 months old, and we started chatting, he was surprised that Sabine was nearly a year, but then saw her walking. He said how wonderful children are at this age, so honest and real. And then he said something about not having any children.

OK, dude, that is way beyond creepy, that you are hanging out in the children's area, chatting about children and ages and how wonderful they are when little, and you don't have kids?! The only reasonable conclusions I can draw from these facts are:

1. You are a child molester.


2. You are a creepy guy who thinks he can find "desperate housewives" in Indiana.


3. You are really brain damaged and don't realize how creepy you sound.

I keep trying to come up with some less funky explanation, but no ... I was really creeped out.

Before I could politely remove myself and my family from the vicinity he was telling me how white kids (this is a white guy) yell at him when he's walking down the street. This isn't helping.

Next time I am just going to sit my ass on the floor. I'm just going to knit and poke the weirdos with a knitting needle. I am done talking to people in the library.

I'm fine, how are Roux?

OK, so I make my own crazy sometimes.

Last night we drove to Lafayette, which, though it is the one in Indiana and not Acadiana, has a really nice New Orleans style restaurant and music hall. I had a really great shrimp po-boy, Michael had a brisket po-boy, and even Sabine ate the hush peppers, bell peppers and cajun seasoning mixed in cornmeal and deep-fried. MMM.

This morning I talked to my grandmother on the phone for an hour before my cordless phone decided it'd had enough and died in the middle of an important conversation about politics. (Yes, with my grandmother -- we were comparing how much we think Palin is a bad mommy in addition to a bad person. My grandmother is hardcore democrat.)

I gave up on the phone (when the rechargeable battery dies it takes at least 5 minutes before the phone will work again), and gathered up my kidlings, my knitting, snacks, toys, and everything imaginable except the stroller (this is important later), and trekked to church for the once a month knitting get-together where we knitted with a guilty glee while some of our number toiled outside in the hot mugginess to clean up the grounds and others of our group toiled with the new members orientation. Arabella announced she was going to knit, then that this was all boring before one new knitter arrived with her 4 year old and the two set off on some wild adventures on the grounds (remember, we know all the people outside raking and pruning and such, and we periodically checked on their whereabouts). This was possibly the most popular knitting day Arabella has ever known, and I think I will have little trouble getting her to go again. At noon I gathered up stuff again and we set off.

We went to the French Market, a once a year event celebrating all things French-ish. Arabella had a hot dog and Cheetos, I had crawfish etoufee (French-ish, see?) from Yats and we shared a Chocolate Mousse. My step-father makes the most decadent and amazing Mousse au Chocolat. This was not it. I knew this was not going to be it when the lady spooned whipped cream on top of it. It was OK, and chocolaty enough, but I think I'd rather just get more etoufee next time. Arabella wanted to go on the space jump. It was hot and muggy, and I was carrying a huge purse with wallet, phone, keys, bottled water, diapers and wipes, etc, etc, and a nearly 20 pound baby (see, should have brought the stroller!), and I nearly fainted before we got back to the van and headed to Broad Ripple to drop off the knitted mug to its new owner.

The good news was that as there was a crowd of Ravelry-ites knitting at the Broad Ripple Knit Shop, many people saw the mug and liked it and I now have a list of knitters who want mugs of their own. So I guess I had better get back in the studio ...

We get home and Micahel gets home and i ask him what he wants for dinner, and he asks what it is possible for me to make. I started off with "jambalaya ..." and Arabella leaped up and danced around saying "yes! Jambalaya, that's my favorite!" Never mind that aside from breakfast I have eaten nothing but Louisiana cuisine in the past 24 hours (shrimp po-boy, crawfish etoufee, now jambalaya), we're having jambalaya. Is there such a thing as Roux overdose?

Knitted Mug for Sale

I have a mug for sale (well, I have several, but 2 are in a gallery on consignment, thought I might give that a try, so only one is currently available through me) For a limited time I will sell directly the very few mugs I have been making.

All mugs are lead- and barium-free, dishwasher and microwave safe. They are handbuilt, meaning aside from the mold used to texture the slabs they are constructed completely without molds or machinery.

I am asking $18 for the mug, which is a wholesale price, not what it would be priced for a gallery or shop ($30 retail). That does not cover shipping (which would be appx $10 any

where in the U.S. If you are local a free drop-off or pick-up can be arranged).

This is an attempted close-up of the cabled handle. The earlier mugs had the same "sugar cube" stitch pattern as the body, but the second generation have a cabled handle.

Next, when I get some more studio time, knitted vases!

Crazy Days

We haven't even really gotten used to being back to school and yesterday was crazy.

We went to an orchard and Arabella picked apples. I'm planning on making a pie with them, as they are a bit on the tart side, even for me. But picking apples was such an amazing thing to do with the kids.

As soon as we finished and got back from the orchard it was time to run off to ballet, where Arabella did very well, but most of her old friends weren't there. One is in school, two wanted to switch to gymnastics. I'm sad to be without my buddies, too, but without the distractions of our girlfriends I got alot of knitting done and Arabella paid better attention in class.

Then home, and as soon as Michael got home I had to attend a ceramics dpt. meeting. Even though my classes this fall have been cancelled (for lack of enrollment, which has me even more sad), I still need to appear and make sure they know I'm still part of hte department. By the time i got home and everyone was fed it was getting late, and I didn't make an appearance at my Wednesday night knitting group.

On the good side, I got a commission done, and it will get shipped this afternoon, I'm really happy with how it came out.